


Heavenly Bridegrooms

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (sort of? opinions differ), 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, M/M, Non-con exhibitionism, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex Magic, witches made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6386839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn and Poe must copulate for a clan of witches. It's a thing. A stupid plot device for cheerful porn, but a thing.</p><p>There are dubcon elements to this situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavenly Bridegrooms

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the 19th century mystical eroticism text by Ida Craddock.
> 
> Thanks(?) to the nonnies who read an earlier version of this on-meme.

They had a pretty good time, at first. If you're going to crash-land on a planet, Dathomir's not bad at all. Verdant hills, crystal-clear hot springs, tolerable gravity and breathable oxygen: it actually might be in the first rank of Places To Crash Land.

"It's not Jakku," Finn said, "so we're way ahead of the game."

BB-8 tackled the repairs. When Poe double-checked that it was okay for him and Finn to check out the surroundings, it chirped huffily and extended its screwdriver apparatus a little rudely. 

"I know you can handle it, I was just _asking_ ," he replied.

Crashes have a way of shaking everyone up.

BB-8 started to feel better by identifying, then prioritizing, the necessary repairs.

Finn and Poe, on the other hand, found a very nice hot spring just over the next rise and improved their mood with a long soak and a little naked wrestling.

...they wrestled their way right into a magic grove.

There, they found themselves pinned by chants and strange, sweet-smelling smoke.

"I take it back," Finn says. A tall witch, humanoid but grim-faced, towers over them as her adepts bind them tightly. "This is not a very nice place."

"You think?" Poe struggles against the cords binding his wrists and legs.

They are back-to-back, which should help with untying each other, except the bounds are clearly enchanted and really annoying for that.

"Masculine worms," the witch announces, and as she speaks, the air around them grows colder on their damp skin. "This is the realm of the Scarlethided Nightsisters, mages and most lethal assassins ever known. You are not welcome here."

"Mixed message," Poe replies. "If you want us to go, let us go."

"Your arrival amongst us was, however, most fortuitous. The Nightsisters' ichor is out of balance. It requires replenishment of those most base and low energies best found between a man's legs."

"Gross," Finn mutters and Poe tries not to laugh. He fails.

"You never complained," Poe whispers back.

"...and thus, you will contribute your masculine energies and essences to our clan," the witch concludes. She wears red, while the adepts arrayed around them are draped in white.

Finn asks, "How do you propose we do that?" 

"You will copulate until we are satisfied." She lifts her hands, palms down, and chants something. He doesn't know about Finn, but Poe's not feeling chilly any longer. He's feeling, in fact, distinctly warm, and his dick is stirring.

"You've got to be kidding," Poe says.

At the same time, Finn twists around and says, "All right, you've got a deal."

" _What?_ "

Finn raises his voice a little and addresses the witch. "I said, you've got a deal. We'll do it."

"What if we don't?" Poe asks.

Her smile is ghastly. "Then we shall obtain your life-force in other, more permanent ways."

"She means they'll kill us," Finn whispers. He leans so close that his breath pools, warm and humid, around Poe's ear.

"Thank you, I got that," Poe whispers back. He turns a little, as much as he can given their restraints, so he can more of see Finn's face, and says, even more lowly, "sure you're okay with this?"

Finn rolls his eyes. He can get pretty impatient when Poe tries pulling the Mature Older Boyfriend schtick. "I'm...not _okay_ , no. I didn't wake up this morning and think, boy, what I really want to do today is fuck Poe to save our lives and entertain a clan of female witch-assassins! But, yeah. I'm...okay."

"You're not okay but you're okay."

"Exactly," Finn says, nodding decisively, and that's that. He's made up his mind, his eyes are bright, and his jaw is set. Can't argue with him when he gets like this; wouldn't _want_ to, either.

"Can you..." Poe asks, lifting the arms bound behind his back. He shimmies around to catch the witch's eye. "Can you at least let our hands free? Not going to be much in the way of masculine essence if we can't touch."

She purses her lips, then, after a moment, snaps her fingers. All the cords, on their arms as well as their legs, untie themselves and slither away, heading under her skirts. 

"Do not attempt to run," she says. "We shall take your feet and make of them our dinner."

Finn salutes her. "Aye, aye."

Poe starts to work out the kinks and numbness in his hands, but Finn is already reaching for him. His hand goes around Poe's neck and pulls him in, twisting at the waist, until they're kissing hard.

"Hey," Poe says, coming up for breath. His hands skate up and down Finn's arms, up to his neck to cup his face, then back down his torso to settle on his waist. "Is she watching?"

"Yeah," Finn says. He really does seem entirely unconcerned by that. The fuck did the Order _do_ to its troopers, anyway? "How do you want to do this?"

Poe snorts and kisses him again, drags his mouth down the side of Finn's neck. He's sweaty, and the taste is bright, sour. One vein thuds against the flat of Poe's tongue. He shivers and nudge closer. "I dunno, I guess we can't just, like. See where the mood takes us?"

"Pleasure each other," the witch says, her voice suddenly resounding like they're in an ancient temple. 

"Look, lady," Finn says over Poe's shoulder. "There's this thing called 'foreplay', okay?"

He's so brave, and so beautifully stupid about it sometimes, and Poe kind of clutches at Finn, kissing him again to shut him up. And to kiss him, because whether it's the dark magic in the air or just the exhilaration of having survived _and_ having naked Finn wrapped up around, Poe considers himself a fairly simple guy, and this is weird and wrong but also feels damn good.

Finn murmurs into his mouth, excitedly, and when Poe's hands come around his waist to Finn's ass, Finn moans around Poe's tongue.

Finn's hips are starting to work - he will defend the existence of the _concept_ of foreplay, but he's also usually raring to go right off the bat - helpless little rolls that beg for contact. Poe goes up on his knees, pulling Finn up with him, really grasping his ass now, lifting the cheeks and digging his fingers into the flesh. Everywhere he touches is hot and getting slick with sweat, and he can't imagine stopping. He grinds back against Finn, gets a sweet little groan for that, and tries leaning back, hauling Finn up on top of him.

Poe's legs _hate_ that position, so he wiggles one, then the other, free, unfolding and kicking them out. Finn thrusts against Poe's crotch, his cock all the way hard and starting to leak. Poe's cock responds, jumping a little against its buddy. Finn's cheeks are hot under Poe's mouth, his eyes heavy-lidded, and fuck every witch in the galaxy, he looks amazing like this.

"Good," she says. "Now. The young one will penetrate you."

Finn breaks the kiss, looking up wildly, only to snicker. "Hey, now --"

Poe sucks two fingers wet, then runs them down Finn's crack. Finn shivers, and bites his lip, looking down at Poe, all the laughter gone but the joy, the heat, still cascading over his face.

Poe arches his neck, pushing his chin up so he can, sort of, meet the witch's eyes, even if it is upside down. "Can I fuck my boyfriend in peace, or do you have more requests and stage directions?"

She pauses, licking her lips. The adepts gathered around them in a circle hide their faces, shoulders lifting in laughter. Finally, scowling, she waves one hand dismissively. "Continue as you were."

"Push back?" Poe asks Finn. Finn goes up on hands and knees, pushing his ass against Poe's hands, sucking in a high, wheezing breath when Poe works his thumb knuckle against his hole. Finn sits all the way up now, his eyes closed as Poe fingers him, first one, then two; he's as hot, tender-slick, inside as ever, crushing and sucking at the same time. He grunts, his cock bobbing between them. Pre-come pitter-patters over Poe's navel.

When Finn wraps his hand around it, thumb playing with the pre-come, his mouth drops open. His _mouth_ : so slick with spit and beautiful and Poe needs it, _on him_ , now. Poe's hips jerk up, unbidden, and the only thing that keeps him in place is his fingers in Finn.

"New plan," Poe says. "Um. Kneel over me?"

Finn jerks himself a few more times before his eyes open and he processes what Poe just said. "Like --"

"Over my face."

"Oh!" Finn grins at that, surprised and pleased and just so _happy_. "Yeah, okay. Cool."

They shuffle around, while the witch makes various annoyed noises. "You don't know the half of it," Poe tells her, but it's lost, probably, in the adepts' chanting and Finn's groans.

Soon enough, Poe wraps his arms around Finn's thighs, bracketing his head. He mouths the heavy weight of his balls, the soft, taut skin of his crack, the grasping strength of his hole. He jerks Finn with his right hand, nice and steady. When Finn pushes his mouth down Poe's dick, one long deeper-than-deep kiss, Poe bucks, biting a shout against Finn's ass .

"Yes," the witch says, a little huskier now. The adepts are chanting faster - it's difficult to hear with Finn's thighs clamped around his ears, and Poe suspects he doesn't know their sacramental language anyway - but it feels like something is happening.

Something, that is, besides Finn swallowing around his dick, moaning, his own dick jumping and throbbing in Poe's grasp, his hole irising and clenching around Poe' tongue. His hips move like water, up and forward, down and back, riding Poe's face.

The air is sizzling and the light pours over them, golden and sharp, not quite sunlight but something even stronger. Poe's skin sizzles, too, like there are choruses in every pore, and, _damn_. Finn's sucking him so deep, moaning like they're alone, on day three of a weeklong furlough spent in bed, and the least Poe can do is make this as good as possible.

He licks at the underside of Finn's balls, working three fingers back inside, reaching as far, as fast, as he can, jerking him and sucking both balls into his mouth until he really, seriously, cannot breathe.

"Yes, yes, yes," the witches are chanting. That much is in Basic, at least.

Part of him thinks their presence should bother him, and it does, on several levels. But he's so far gone now that catching glimpses of their flushed faces, hearing their enthusiastic voices, is actually kind of hot, in that _damn, you're a fucked-up guy, Dameron_ sort of way.

Finn doesn't mind an audience, and that's the _really_ hot and fucked-up thing about this. He's just going for it, and Poe doesn't want to wonder how you unlearn personal boundaries at the hands of authoritarian pricks. Or what they do to you that you never figure it out in the first place.

Point is, he probably shouldn't be perving on it quite as much as he is.

The light widens into a cone, surrounding them, maybe lifting them a little in the air - though that could be the hysteria of imminent orgasm, when flights of fancy dash through wormholes and this is, always, bar none, the best and most beautiful time ever - and Poe forgets about breathing, about ever detaching.

His dick flexes, thickens, and he starts coming while the light brightens. He's a well of light and pleasure and he has _so much_ to share. Finn fucks himself on one of Poe's hands while spurting come over his other. Poe's still thrusting, still shooting, long after he'd usually be coming down, and so is Finn, just about _screwing_ back onto Poe's fingers, then shoving his cock forward, coming all over Poe's chest in torrents.

When the orgasms finally do start to slow, and taper off, the adepts peel them apart, then roll Finn off Poe. They're lying side by side now, on their backs but looking at each other, foreheads pressed together.

"You okay?" Finn whispers.

"Getting there," Poe replies.

Then Finn chuckles and trembles a little. "Ticklish, watch it --"

The adepts are sucking them clean, helping themselves in some obscure, predetermined order, to the buckets of come they managed to spew. Two will lick and swallow while the others chant. It's pretty gross, Poe supposes, but at the moment, he couldn't really care less. He's floating inside his own skin, sleepy and loose and totally, thoroughly sated.

"You may live," the witch says when they're clean.

They've both long since closed their eyes, but Poe raises his free hand and flips her off. Finn squeezes his other hand and butts his face sleepily into the curve of Poe's shoulder.

They're going to have to come up with a damn good cover story for this, better than every other one, combined, that Poe's used before.


End file.
